


Video Games and Fairy Lights

by elleigator



Category: Miss Pope
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Gay, Lesbian, Other, bit of a wreck, im fine i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 18:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16979748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elleigator/pseuds/elleigator
Summary: For Lily- Happy Christmas! x





	Video Games and Fairy Lights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lily/gifts).



You don't know why you even came, but you're glad you did. Parties aren't your scene, and frankly make you really uncomfortable, but you would have gone to Siberia if she asked you. Every time you think of her, you try to convince yourself you feel nothing, but you know that's not the truth. You feel everything, your chest seizing up, your breath catching in your throat as she walks past.

She swings her hips as she walks, following the crowd of people into the kitchen, where everyone else seems to be gathered. She's in her black dress, your favourite one, and her red lipstick stands out against her pale face. Her hair hangs, loose and wavy, down to her shoulders. It is a darker brown at the roots, fading to a silvery-blonde at the tips, falling to just below her shoulders. Her eyes are a piercing, shocking blue against her powdery skin and her cheeks are very slightly pink. One might imagine her as a porcelain doll, her face so perfectly poised it was impossible for her to be real. Her fishook smile quirked up at the side, always slightly amused by her surroundings.

She's got her back to you now, standing in the doorway, as you rest on the sofa. She's talking to someone in the kitchen, but you're so hyperfocused on what you're about to do that her words are nothing but a buzz. You've followed her around for most of the night, hanging onto her every word, desperate for some sort of recognition, but she's been teasing you.

"Wait, sweetheart. Later." That's what she said when you walked through the door, and she hasn't properly sat down with you ever since. However, the party guests seem to be dwindling in number as the clock ticks past ten, people returning home to kids, and jobs, and other things you don't have.

You're sat on the maroon velvet sofa in her living room, perched awkwardly, not sure whether you're being antisocial or polite, but it's fine. She'll make everything fine. The ceiling is high, and heat rises, but candles are lit around the room, a comforting reminder of her warmth. The walls are dark red, creating a romantic atmosphere, and you try to fill the pooling heat between your legs. Down, girl.

You hear her voice, tinkling over the hum of the Christmas music, and the door shut as she waves off the last of the guests. You listen to every step she takes, making her way through the flat to the living room, where you are, and the noise stops.

You're waiting for her voice but it doesn't come, so you twist your neck slightly and look over your shoulder. She's leaning against the doorframe, smiling at you lovingly, her lips turned up and her hands folded across her chest.

"Is that everyone gone?" You ask, your voice a desperate croak.

"Unless there's someone hiding in my closet, I think so." She smirks at her own joke, and you force a laugh, too preoccupied by the way she swings her hips on her way to the sofa.

"Pass me a controller," She says, sitting down so that your thighs are brushing hers. You lean across the sofa to grab a controller from the pile on the coffee table, your fingers meeting slightly as you hand it over.

"Winner gets a kiss?" You ask suggestively, winking and making her smile.

"Deal." She agrees, her eyes crinkling as she smiles, but hardening slightly. You love when she gets fierce, and when her competitive side comes out.

You both fight for first place, leaning against each other, and at one point she even tried to distract you with a hand inching upwards on your thigh, but you still won.

"Didn't we say winner gets a kiss?" You ask, raising your eyebrows and laughing at the pouting expression on her face.

"Can I have a favour first?" She asks, licking her lips and your eyes widen slightly.

"See those fairy lights over there? Would you hang them on the curtain rail? I can't reach." She says, her smile pure and genuine.

"Course." You comply, and stand up. You would have hung them on Mount Everest if she asked. You move to the curtain rail, starting to string them over the top and wrap them around, and you hear her chuckling behind you.

"You're doing it wrong, here," She stands up as well and moves to help you. She stands right behind you pressing into your back, and her fingers hold yours as they reach up.

"Up and over," she says, but you don't process it. All you can think of is her and the way she feels, pressed flush against your Christmas jumper. Her fingers help yours to wind the wire over and around, over and around, until you reach the end of the curtain rail and she spins you around. You're pressed against the wall, her hands still holding yours, and she leans in for a kiss. She drops your hand to reach up into your hair, cradling your neck in the sweetest way. Her kisses move off your lips, soft and slow, onto your neck, where you moan. You hold her waist, pulling her closer, desperate to feel her against yourself. After several minutes, though, she pulls away, and you sigh.

"Another night." She says, a teasing smile quirking at her lips as you roll your eyes.

"Fine." You agree, taking her hand and leading her out of the room and into the hallway.

"Will you be okay getting home?" She asks, and you smile at her cautiousness.

"It's only up the road. I'll see you soon." You bend down to tighten your lace, avoiding her face because you know you won't be able to resist it.

"I love you." She says softly, and you smile. She doesn't say it often, but when she does, she means it. She shows you she loves you in lots of ways; asking if you're safe getting home, picking you up from dodgy bars when you're drunk, of course. But there's something special about when she says it.

"I love you too."

And the door shuts.


End file.
